Mother's Day. Neither mother, nor with a mother to visit, I head instead for what's newborn in the garden.
The tulips are in bud. But what catches my eye first is a magnificent caterpillar. I should mind its nibblings – but look at it, an elaborately-plaited braid of a thing... so I honour bud, stripy leaves, raindrops, and creature.
Under the rose, the dark earth zings with sharp little leaves, unremarkable unless you know what they are. And I do. Wild garlic. I planted it as a reminder of the fragrant, lushly-lined country lanes of Sark. The soil, I find, needs a lot of purple, with a sponge of moss green here and there.
Then, set jewel-like in a springy weave of bluebell leaves, the first grape hyacinth, purple, ultramarine and nearly-green by turns.
Today, as I begin to wrap up this nearly-three-year project, I'm drawing in a scraped-together mix of ink and watercolour (much of it on my hands). But the garden, full-circle for another Spring, is all dressed-up for the Equinox.
Ballpen, watercolour and fineliner on handed-down paper.
Visit my Teemill shop for sketches on t-shirts and tote bags.